


Convincing

by severinne



Category: Priest (2011), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Biting, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Vampires, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severinne/pseuds/severinne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>In seconds, this creature had proven him outmatched, overpowered in both speed and strength, his weapon discarded…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No. Not his only weapon.</em>
</p><p>Written for the intoabar Challenge, wherein Christopher Pike walks into a bar and meets Black Hat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convincing

His hand was one with his phaser, his heart punching the drum of his breastbone as Christopher pressed his cheek to the battered wood of the saloon’s doorframe. No sound answered his straining ear, though the unmistakable iron scent of blood was thick and invasive against his tongue. He slaked his dry lips, poured strength down his spine before shouldering the broken excuse for a door out of his path. 

The tableau that confronted him was beyond appalling; he forced his eye away from the mangled bodies beyond his help, directed all the fire of his glare at the closest thing to a living being left in the bar. It – _he_ , he decided, in a flawed moment – tipped an amber-laced glass in his direction from his perch at the bar.

‘Do they have whisky where you come from?’

The question clawed irritably at his fury; Christopher twitched, steadied his grip on his phaser. ‘Probably better than what you have there,’ he bit out sharply between clenched teeth. ‘Put it down, and stand up. _Slowly._ ’

Slow wasn’t a problem for this creature, though obedience was clearly not going to happen. He looked away with private hint of a smile as he took another sip of his drink with luxurious patience. 

‘I said, stand _up._ ’

‘Mmn…’ The stranger flexed a wrist beneath a tattered cloak, curled long fingers against the inseam of his splayed thigh. ‘You wouldn’t much like it if I did.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

‘And the judge of me?’ He raised his head as he drew off his wide-brimmed hat, and Christopher flinched at the shock of unnatural gold eyes staring him down, taking him apart in an indulgent, downward sweep of his gaze. ‘Now that would be something to see.’

Christopher squared his shoulders, ignored the uninvited lick of heat along his spine. ‘Five seconds,’ he warned tightly.

‘Mighty generous of you.’

‘Four.’

He looked away, drained his whisky dry with a low, bestial hum of satisfaction.

‘Three.’

‘Now you’re just being a tease,’ he sighed as he set his empty glass aside. ‘Gonna make me wait for it, are you?’

‘If you’d rather not.’ That hum of warning beneath his skin was shrieking now, demanding faster action than this taut negotiation. He took a determined step closer, set his phaser to maximum stun–

And it was gone, rattled to a wooden floor as hard and unyielding as the wall that slammed the air from Christopher’s lungs, knocked the back of his head. He groaned, gasped for breath that stopped short at the long fingers clutching his throat. A harsher hand had him by the wrist, had strength enough to grind his bones to dust and _fuck_ , he hadn’t even seen him coming, hadn’t seen him _move…_

He dared to close his eyes for a ground-seeking second. His tactician’s mind was already running high with adrenaline and strategy, even as his trapped body recoiled from the possibilities unfolding before him. In seconds, this creature had proven him outmatched, overpowered in both speed and strength, his weapon discarded…

No. Not his only weapon.

He tested his theory with an undulation of his body that pretended to struggle for freedom and was soon shoved tighter to the wall with a warning growl; close enough to imprint the heat of an erection against Christopher’s tensed thigh. The contact triggered a sharper spark of gold in those heavy-lidded eyes, something hungry that confirmed Christopher’s next move and sent an awful heat lurching through his limbs. He swallowed tightly past the hand around his neck, writhed again to charge the friction between their bodies with a breathless hint of a moan that his captor met with a twist of his full lips.

‘Definitely a tease,’ he hushed, eyes narrowing as he bowed his head into Christopher’s neck with a slow, audible inhalation. ‘Mmn. And here I thought you wanted to take me down…’

‘That was the idea,’ he admitted tightly. The creature’s breath was hot against his neck, damp with eagerness. ‘I wasn’t looking to join the rest of your drinking buddies over there.’

‘Did I ever say you should?’ The fingers at his throat loosened slightly, slipped down to tease the collar of his cloak with perverse gentleness. ‘I tried to make them see the wisdom of standing by my side, of being brothers once more,’ he said, almost mournfully soft. ‘It’s a damned shame they couldn’t be convinced.’

Christopher kept his eyes fixed on the ramshackle rafters of the bar ceiling as a calloused thumb tested the shape of his collarbone beneath the layers of his cloak. As ever, his body’s response to danger was electrifying, charging beneath his skin and growing thick between his legs but he had to control it, channel it to his purpose. He rallied his reluctant lust inward, licked his parched lips. 

‘Convince me, then,’ he demanded hoarsely, a dare that died in his throat as the strange man growled deeper still with a lewd thrust of his hips. Far from recoiling, Christopher shoved away from the wall in a move that could have sought escape but conspired instead to meet the thick ridge of that cock with his own aching length. Even through the heavy layers of their clothing, the heat and the need of him was addictive, almost inhumanly hot. 

A slower, more deliberate roll of the hips had Christopher choking back a moan, brought a filthy chuckle to the stranger’s lips. ‘Do I even need to try?’ Searing breath claimed the length of his neck, turned the sharp angle of his jaw with a wet trace of tongue that seemed to devour the sweat of his tightly coiled body. ‘You make it seem so… _easy._ ’

That deft tongue traced his parted mouth, almost in anticipation of a kiss but the teeth that pierced his lower lip brought a sharper shock of pain, a bright burst of blood that his captor suckled away with chilling tenderness. Christopher shuddered beneath the wave of weakness that overtook him, an unfamiliar and awful peace that nearly buckled his knees before his instincts took over once more. 

He bit back, hard, grinned ruthlessly as the other man flinched back in surprise. ‘Is that the best you’ve got?’ His left hand lashed out in a reckless fist, caught the monster unaware across a sharp cheekbone. 

Christopher seized his advantage, twisted away and lunged towards his fallen weapon. The swift retaliation of a hard body hitting him from behind did not come as a surprise; he let the forceful shove propel him forward, drove all his power into hitting the dirt-scabbed floor on his back, his right arm trapped beneath his back.

‘Oh, I haven’t even started yet…’ The full length of that solid frame covered him, shoved his thighs apart to insinuate the slither of his hips between Christopher’s thighs. ‘If you want it the hard way,’ he hushed in a silken drawl, ‘I’m delighted to oblige.’ 

‘Don’t–’ He clawed at a broad shoulder with his free hand, cried out as his wrist was captured and slammed to the floor. The creature’s other hand twisted itself into his hair, tugged hard to bare his throat to the glancing passage of pointed canines, too gentle to penetrate him but heavy with threat. 

‘You asked for this.’ An agile tongue laced the cold reminder into his ear, punctuated it with a sharp bite at his flesh. ‘You _crave_ this…’ he breathed as that tongue raked deep into his mouth for a greedy mockery of a kiss. Beneath the oaken burn of whisky, Christopher could taste the sickly iron of blood and prayed it was only his own as he made his lips and tongue respond with equal hunger. Christopher surrendered like a man determined to drag his nemesis down with scraping teeth and muffled moans, indulging his hardened cock in the carnal rutting forced upon him. The arousal that spread his legs wider and braced his heels on the floor was appallingly real, all the better to grind up against the hard ridge of the other man’s cock straining through battle-worn leather trousers. 

The sound of tearing fabric was his only warning for the shock of damp breath against his heaving chest, layers of clothing ruined to make way for that greedy mouth as it scraped and bit its way down his body. ‘I could enslave you in seconds,’ the creature murmured against his skin between rasping, feral growls of anticipation. His control was slipping, hands groping freely over Christopher’s restless body. ‘Drain you dry… but I reckon you’ll be more fun like this…’

‘Please…’ He arched away from the floor, pressing greedily into the stranger’s mouth and hands, shuddering at the distraction of fingers sliding beneath the waist of his pants even as his right hand moved.

His phaser, no longer a bruising ache beneath his spine, stabbed tight to the other man’s flank. Christopher fired before it could be felt, collapsed slack to the floor as the jolt of maximum stun flung the creature away from him with a sickening thud against the wall. 

Some unknown number of too long moments passed over his paralyzed body, with Christopher’s own ragged gasps the only sound he heard. His legs struggled for strength as he made himself move, phaser readied in needless precaution as he approached the dark heap at his feet.

No movement stirred in those long limbs, but he no longer felt reckless enough to trust in the evidence of his eyes. There was too much magnetism left in that body, too much sensuality in those full lips that remained slightly parted, slightly wet.

A clatter of footfalls outside snapped Christopher’s attention away; he snatched at the edge of his tattered cloak, scrubbed at his bleeding lip as the broken door flew inward with the rest of his away party.

‘Captain.’ One’s cool gaze dissected the room, the unconscious creature, her commanding officer in a single knowing sweep. ‘Are you injured?’ The question was perfectly pitched for either urgency or a dismissal of any concern. Immediately, Christopher relaxed with a rush of gratitude.

‘I’m fine.’ Slowly, he allowed his hand to lower his phaser. 

‘You’re bleeding,’ Boyce countered sharply. He strode purposefully closer, squinting far too incisively over Christopher’s face, his ruined clothes and the trail of bitten bruises hidden beneath. ‘What the hell happened?’

‘Nothing I couldn’t handle,’ he snapped with a brisk adjustment of his tattered cloak. ‘You two,’ he added, waving at the security detail hanging back by the door. ‘Prep him for secure transport back to the ship.’

‘Captain?’ One glanced dubiously at the unconscious form on the floor, distaste clear even on her impassive face. For all her intelligence, there was so much she never seemed to perceive.

‘You heard me.’ He cast his own slower, more contemplative gaze over that powerful body as his hand lingered inside his ragged layers, tracing the marks claiming his body. ‘I’m nowhere near done with him yet.’


End file.
